


Where We Belong

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Original Character(s), Where we belong, shulaz, uliro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: When Shiro is pulled back from the astral plane after the final battle with Zarkon, he isn't alone. But Shiro's connection with the Black Lion is unstable. A newly-returned Ulaz makes the decision to take him back to the Blade of Marmora headquarters to recover. What help they can offer - and whether Shiro will be welcome at all - remains to be seen.





	Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is one that I've been working on in little bursts, thanks to the encouragement of the Uliro Canoe. Now it's high time this became a fic of its very own, so here we go. Hope you enjoy!  
> Many thanks go to in-a-garden-astonished for beta reading and SassafrassRex for helping me with the summary!

_ “She’s too heavy, I can’t breathe…!” _

_ “Easy, Shiro, just hang on. I’m going to take you home.” _

_ “But we’re here. I can feel her.” _

_ “Not your home. My home.” _

_ “Ulaz…” _

Shiro wakes with a start, sitting up straight. His chest is still painfully tight, but the pressure he’d felt from the Black Lion is faint. They’re still connected; he knows deep down he can reach out to her if he tries. But mentally he pulls back, wary. He’s not ready for that yet. Instead, he tries to focus on what’s around him because none of it is familiar. The room is dark, only the dim glow of undermount lighting coming from nearby in hazy blue-purple tones. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, and he scrambles in the tangle of covers until he feels his back hit a solid surface to brace against. He wills his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the practice burned into his instincts so hard by now that it takes little time to accomplish. The only thing that keeps him from full-on panic is that the smells are all wrong. They’re faint, but it’s not blood or sweat or alien fluids. This is not the dank surroundings of the arena’s holding cells. The comfortable linens beneath him should have given that away quickly, too, but his disorientation is working against him. He holds still, takes a deep breath and attempts to reach the last things he can remember.

_ Bright, it had been bright. And blue. The Castle of Lions. Voices were chaotic around him, happy and wet and scared. He had just tumbled into all that from a void that had been quiet, dark and full of stars. Almost immediately, his being had been pushed down by the presence of the Black Lion, as if she had mentally jumped on him in greeting. He’d really panicked then, still fighting all of his fear from that final battle and the cold grip of doubt from his isolation. He wasn’t ready for her, she was too much. _

Shiro hangs his head in shame, running his hand through his hair. It doesn’t surprise him that it’s damp. He must have been moved somewhere to sleep. Ulaz had said something about home– _ Ulaz _ ! Shiro’s gaze sweeps around the room, but he doesn’t need to look as far as he first thinks. Now that he’s a little more aware, he realizes he’s not alone. The “bed”, more than big enough for two, is more like a large futon mat with a whole host of various blankets and pillows and other soft things. Shiro licks his lips, identifying the pointed ears and white tufts of Ulaz’s crest, and finally, he can relax. He’s safe.

_ Not your home. My home. _

The Blade of Marmora headquarters. A sigh of relief whooshes out of Shiro and his head falls back against the wall. His heart, furiously pounding in his ears, is finally starting to settle down. Safe is a feeling he’s not used to, but it practically hums around him now, like a…like a purr? He glances down, Ulaz sound asleep. He dares to lean in a little closer again and sure enough, the rumble he’s hearing is from Ulaz. He should have known. Ulaz had purred like that during some of their conversations in the void. It had prompted many a joke about giant purple space cats and Ulaz demanding Shiro explain cats to him in great detail. Being a dog person himself, Shiro fumbled through it with no shortage of amusement.

Knowing he’s with Ulaz now, somewhere in the relative safety of what he thinks is the Blade headquarters eases Shiro’s mind a bit. No wonder his connection to the Black Lion isn’t so immediate. He feels guilty about it, but secretly, he’s grateful. He just hopes the others aren’t angry at him—Keith especially. He has a lot of catching up to do, a lot of questions to ask. But, he’s not about to go wandering around the base while Ulaz sleeps, so he settles back down into the bed. Before Shiro realizes what he’s doing, his arm is around Ulaz’s waist and he is pressed up against his back. It’s laughable how much taller Ulaz is, how funny it must look to spoon him like this. But the moment he feels the vibrations of Ulaz’s chest against his own, he knows that’s where he wants to be. They’d spent a good long time together out in that void, enough that Shiro can actually reach out and touch a Galra without panicking. It’s…nothing he ever would have expected. That in itself raises even more questions, ones he’s probably going to have to dig deep into himself to get the answers to. He’s not ready for that either. Instead, he focuses on being near Ulaz; it’s familiar and comforting Shiro closes his eyes to try and sleep once more.

Maybe he can be a cat person after all.

/   
  


"You have some nerve, Ulaz."

Kolivan's voice is low, practically a growl. He has his back to the door, but he had already identified Ulaz's presence the moment his subordinate stepped through the entryway. Kolivan crosses his arms, seemingly intent on standing his ground as if the wall before him is more interesting than the return of someone the entire base had thought to be dead. It hadn't been a complete surprise; Ulaz had made contact with the base before pulling the Altean pod through the black holes. In a way, Ulaz feels he should have expected this reception, but it still stings just a little. Very well.

"This is my home, Leader."

"No, your home is the abandoned Thaldycon base."

"I beg to differ. That is my post, this is my home." Ulaz doesn't give up his ground, even when he sees the broad shoulders before him twitch. "And, if I may, that post became compromised, and if all of the defenses were fully functional, there is no more Thaldycon post. All in the interest of secrecy, of course."

"Ah, yes, secrecy. That is why you came alone, is it not?"

Ulaz frowns, an eyebrow quirking. Kolivan is in rare form today. "You know full well I am not alone, so why ask the question?"

"How dare you bring him here."

"I beg your pardon, Leader."

Kolivan finally turns. "How dare you bring the Champion here."

"He is no longer the Champion, but the Black Paladin of Voltron. And to my understanding, it is not his first visit." Ulaz's frustration starts creeping up his spine. While not entirely unexpected of Kolivan, it is also exhausting to go through this so soon after returning. Not just to the base, but from that strange in-between he and Shiro had been sharing. "If you are going to truly deny my right to be here, as well as his, then do it and get it over with. But the last battle—"

"You know  _ nothing _ of that last battle, Ulaz."

Now the root of the problem is revealing itself. "I know the toll it took on Shiro. I know there were losses in equal stride to our gain. I may not have been present, but I am still part of this war. I would wish to continue my service to the Blade. Is that acceptable to you, Leader, or not?"

Kolivan closes his eyes and draws in a tight breath. Ulaz holds his own as well, a part of him hopeful, the other part braced for the worst. He stands his ground now, waiting as long as Kolivan would have him be still, but he's quite certain there are Kolivan can tell of how much is hanging in this moment, what it means to Ulaz. The air is hard to breathe, as if the room is closing in on the two of them and Kolivan’s anger.

"Ulaz."

He draws his shoulders up. "Leader."

"Welcome home."

Kolivan reaches a hand out to clasp Ulaz's shoulder, and they both go in together so quickly, it's a wonder they manage not to crash their heads together when their foreheads touch. Ulaz returns the gesture, his hand resting on the center of Kolivan's chest. For several moments, all they do is breathe, taking in each other's scents, each other’s presence. Some of the tension uncoils from Ulaz's body, and he lets himself take in the feeling of being back where he belongs. His solitary post had always been well-suited to him, but he hadn't realized how much he'd missed his surrogate clan until now — when he'd feared having it taken away from him by one he considered his brother.

"His presence here will cause such a stir. They speak of him often, ever since he brought the half-blood paladin here to form the alliance. How long will he remain this time."

Ulaz sighs. "I know not. I can only guess that between the Black Lion's ability and the unusual way in which I confronted the robeast, our folds of space time overlapped. But his return to the physical plane did not go as well as anyone had hoped. He needs time...away from the Lion, for her presence was enough to smother him."

Kolivan's brow twitched against Ulaz's, and he finally pulls back, his expression grim. The only difference between now and when Ulaz had first arrived is that he's known Kolivan long enough to tell there is warmth behind the concern. "If his connection to the Black Lion is damaged, we may be facing larger problems than just his popularity here."

"Know that I would not have brought him here so soon for anything frivolous. I am concerned, and yet..."

"What?"

"I don't need to tell you about the Paladins of Voltron now, Leader. You have seen them with your own eyes." The way Kolivan frowns deeper tells Ulaz that he knows exactly where this conversation is going. They need not waste words. "Shiro may be the Champion, but his experiences and skills were born against his will. Surely, there is a strong fighter and a worthy leader in him, but that responsibility is more of a burden than anything else. It is not to say that he doesn't accept it—"

"But he is not ready. None of them were."

"I thought perhaps this would serve two purposes, his time with the Blade of Marmora. Not only can he have the space to repair his bond with the Black Lion, but he would benefit from observing what a strong leader can do for his people, how valuable he truly is and what he can become."

"Do not flatter me to get your way, Ulaz."

Ulaz smiles in spite of himself. Kolivan is so grumpy in the face of praise.

Nevertheless, he knows that he's managed to win over Kolivan to the idea of Shiro staying with them—if he was ever fully against it to start with. It's difficult to tell sometimes. They remain as they are in the quiet presence of one another, this act so very familiar to them.

"We are preparing for the Rites," Kolivan murmurs.

Ulaz is startled, surprised but also relieved that he hasn't missed them. "I am surprised you have not already."

"We were waiting for you."

"I thought—"

"Sorvex requested that we give you more time to show up." Kolivan takes a slow breath. "To give everyone more time to reappear."

Ulaz feels a heavy weight settle at the core of his being. "Who is late?"

"Antok. Thace."

That weight Ulaz feels spreads out from his stomach until it seems to blanket the room they're in, making the air between the two of them hard to breathe. The anguish Ulaz has in his heart is crushing. "I am...glad that I did not miss honoring them. Are you certain we should—"

"Antok fell in battle at my side. Thace fell to save the Red Paladin. We will wait no longer."

"Yes, Leader."

/

Shiro is alone when he wakes again. It takes him less time to adjust to his surroundings than before, once more reaffirming to himself that he's somewhere safe. But Ulaz is nowhere to be found. Shiro disentangles himself from the blankets of Ulaz's bed—which is really more of a nest than the kind of bed Shiro is used to. Something about the simplicity and warmth of it makes a comforting click of reason in his mind, chipping away at the constant undercurrent of fear towards the Galra. He had put on a brave face in their defense in front of Allura and the other paladins: one of his greatest challenges as a leader. If it wasn't for the memories of Ulaz resurfacing to lead him to the Blade of Marmora, then his impressions of the Galra as heartless monsters, things truly born of nightmares, may have remained. His thinking has been turned to a different course, now.

At first, he doesn't know what to do with himself, and circles Ulaz's room just for the sake of moving. He's not in the Castle, he doesn't have any rights or set boundaries: so does he need to remain in Ulaz's room until he returns? Is he allowed to just take a step outside and familiarize himself with his new surroundings? He doesn't know. Upon inspection, he discovers that the layout of the room isn't entirely different from his quarters in the Castle of Lions. There are compartments built into the walls, likely for Ulaz's personal effects, and there is a door-port to an adjoining room. Feeling Ulaz wouldn't hold it against him to have searched for a washroom, Shiro takes a chance on that door and turns up exactly what he needs. He's come to appreciate the small things now, and a chance to splash water on his face and tame his hair again are both rituals he takes advantage of before stepping back out into the main room. His gaze shifts longingly to the door leading to the main hallway. He can’t help feeling restless and adrift in his solitude. Just like he'd done the first time he snuck out at the Garrison, he gathered up his nerve and ventured out.

Surprisingly, Shiro finds the halls completely devoid of anyone or anything. No signs of activity, no Ulaz or any of the other Blades coming at him to tell him he should have stayed put. It's something of a relief, but it's also strange. Maybe his original assessment had been wrong... Before he can second-guess himself back to the safety of Ulaz's room, Shiro finally picks up on a sound. It's coming from another hallway at a fork in his path. It's low, steady, as if the base has a heartbeat, and Shiro feels drawn to it before he can even think to stop himself. It steadily grows louder the further he goes, reverberating in his chest. He stops trying to remember the way back and just focuses on reaching the music’s source. At last, he reaches a door that is very different from the ones he's seen on his travels through the base. This one looks as though it's been taken off of some monument the Galra built and melded into the workings of the base, almost as a tribute. The more he stares at the symbols and craftsmanship, the more he thinks he's right. At first, Shiro thinks he should back away, but he isn’t sure he won’t get lost trying to find the way he came. The pull of that low beat now feels as if it has settled in his chest, a second heartbeat, and he can't make himself turn back. He looks over at the control panel thoughtfully, hesitantly, then steels himself and presses his right hand to it.

The whoosh of the doors is silent, but it feels like a thunderclap in Shiro's brain, making him step back. All at once, his senses are assaulted, and he scurries inside before the doors can close, old habits already pushing him to seek a place of cover. He quickly ducks against a pedestal near the doors with some kind of sculpture on it (he doesn’t really take in the details), giving him a sheltered vantage point where he can take in what’s happening before him. 

There are Galra everywhere in the room, and nearly all of them are moving. It's a blur of purples and blacks, with flashes of blue and white as they move. Drums beat with solid, steady force, and a voice chants, singing to the rhythm of the drummers. Some sort of string instrument is tied up in the melody, but Shiro can't understand a single word of it. It suddenly occurs to him that the chant is in Galran, and there are no translators active to tell him what's being said. He's suddenly cut adrift of what's happening, and yet so deep into it he can't pull himself out of it. His time in the Arena help him pull out words.  _ Wake _ and  _ now _ and other words he would have to think about to remember. Everyone else is moving, moving, moving. The longer he watches, he sees that more than just moving, they're  _ dancing.  _ Shiro grips the pedestal. He can barely breathe.

His eyes sweep over Kolivan, picking his face out in the crowd, further to the back of the room, at what must be the head of the group he's leading. There are so many Galra, and yet, even Shiro knows that this is a small force in the wake of the Empire Zarkon had been leading. At last, not much further away, he spots Ulaz, and there's where his attention stays. He's never seen Ulaz like this before, swathed in flowing sleeves and a formal tunic, knee high boots. He's dancing, but there is no joy in the features Shiro's become so familiar with. Shiro starts to understand just what he's witnessing, even if his mind and heart are vehemently trying to deny it.

The song ends and all of the Galra go still, on one bent knee before Kolivan, Ulaz among those bowed in respect. Shiro's panting as if he's been running all this time, or part of the dance. He tries to get it under control before Kolivan starts speaking, but he isn't fast enough. If Kolivan, or any of the others have noticed him there, nothing is done about it. Kolivan carries on, his voice booming through the chamber. Again, Shiro understands very little of it, but his earlier suspicions are confirmed when two words strike him with all the force of a meteor crash.

_ Antok. Thace. _

Shiro sinks down to one knee as well, and does nothing to stop the burn of tears running down his face.

/

"Shiro." It sounds like it's coming from the end of a long tunnel. "Shiro."

Ulaz's voice.

When Shiro manages to pry his eyes open, he's much closer to Ulaz's face than he expected. The room is swaying—no, he's the one that's swaying, ever so slightly with Ulaz's gait because he's being  _ carried _ . His face heats up in shame as he tries to figure out how he got there. The last thing he remembers is that room full of Blades and everything in him falling to pieces. If Ulaz or anyone else had tried to talk to him between that point and now, he doesn't remember it, but he can only hope he hadn't made things uncomfortable for Ulaz.

"I'm sorry," tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Shiro's surprised he can understand Ulaz again when the soft rumble of, "You need not be sorry," is the response. He'd even blacked out while they fixed the translators. In spite of how angry he is at himself, he's relieved to be able to speak freely to Ulaz.

"Are you able to walk?" Ulaz asks him.

"God, I hope so."

Ulaz's brow creases in scrutiny before he stops to set Shiro on his feet. Shiro’s unsteady, but thankfully his knees don’t give out and he manages not to crumble to the ground. At least he can maintain some composure on the outside, because everything inside is still a mess. Despite Ulaz's assurance, he isn't done apologizing. “I shouldn’t have walked in. I hope I didn’t mess anything up, but I—”

“You honor our dead, Shiro. I have researched human body reactions, because”—Ulaz pauses, rethinks what he had been about to say and continues—”the way your eyes secrete your pain and happiness is something that Galra do not understand. When we found you, there were so many of those ‘tears’ that I worried for you when you did not respond to my voice.”

“Of course I honor your dead,” Shiro says, wondering what Ulaz had been about to say, but deciding it’s not as important as what he actually did say. “Even if we weren’t trying to build an alliance with the Blade of Marmora, Thace and Antok sacrificed themselves for us. Keith is alive because of Thace. I don’t know how Antok was lost, but he was alive when I left for that final battle.” Shiro reaches out and touches Ulaz’s arm. “You also sacrificed yourself to save us. I...I mourned you then. You know this.”

Ulaz inhales sharply, eyes wide as his shoulders draw up tight. He opens his mouth and closes it again, instead reaching out to pull Shiro against his chest. The sleeves of his tunic wrap around Shiro’s shoulders, and Shiro finds himself clinging to Ulaz’s waist. He turns his head, noticing he’s not quite tall enough to tuck up under Ulaz’s chin. Regardless, he still feels safer than he did a moment ago, and he can’t stop the sting that comes back to his eyes. The pain of the final battle is sharp and immediate, reminding him that he still has a war to fight. But in this moment, he is removed from the ache of his bond with the Black Lion, he’s far from the Castle, and it almost feels as though he’s away from everything except all his broken pieces. He doesn’t know if he should be here, if he should be insisting to return before everything can catch up and overtake him. He just...doesn’t know.

“You will stay here,” Ulaz tells him. “Where you can recover and learn. I made you a promise the day I freed you. The Blade of Marmora is with you, and that promise is as strong as ever.”

The prospect is incredibly tempting. With the Black Lion quieted by distance and the insistence of someone who has made him feel safe more times than not, Shiro dearly wants to acquiesce. Not for a long time, no. Just enough to get his bearings back, find some solid ground to stand on and be strong again. Dear God, he just wants to feel like he’s a whole person again. Maybe Ulaz can help him feel it again.

“I’ll stay,” Shiro whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me about Uliro and Voltron on [tumblr](http://paladinpuppypile.tumblr.com)!


End file.
